Soaring Over Nile rewritten
by Ethereal Light
Summary: AU Will a defiant noble's daughter and her longing for freedom and a young Pharaoh and his longing for choice result in love? What if the elements of life come into the fray?
1. The Gathering

**Soaring Over Nile**

_Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh_

Egyptian names & meanings  
_amuenet_ (derived from 'amunet' meaning mystery)  
_omorose_ (beautiful)  
_shemei_ (desire)  
_halyma_ (gentle)  
_hamadi_ (praised)

**Chapter One**- **The Gathering**

The carvings on two heavy bronze doors glinted faintly as they swung open to admit a young boy about the age of fifteen.

Guards, dressed in simple linen skirts and head coverings, bowed respectfully to the boy as he walked past them, across the huge room, its walls decorated with elaborate pictures and paintings. The carvings of the sandstone pillars melted into the shade of sandy gold; only the shadows outlining the carvings gave any clues as to what the characters were. The boy, ignoring the paintings, stopped only to kneel in front of a golden throne, placed at the back of the room on a raised platform.

"You called for me Father?"

The Pharaoh of Egypt surveyed his son solemnly from his seat, a frown on his lined face, his hands holding his crook and flail stiffly in position. There seemed to be a long pause before his mouth moved, at least to the boy. "Atem, you are aware of the festival taking place at the palace in a few days, are you not?"

"Yes Father," Atem replied, his head still bowed; his voice was rough, with a lingering echo of childhood soprano, and betrayed no emotion.

The Pharaoh sighed, discreetly eyeing his son with a speculative eye, taking in his son's small build. "You will know, then, you are supposed to choose a bride there."

It was there the boy looked up, his golden earrings jangling loudly. The Pharaoh's dark grey eyes met with startled amethyst irises and a second of wordless communication passed between them.

"Father, I-"

"It cannot wait!" The Pharaoh said, his deep voice cutting off his son's protest, "I am old and there is no way you can become Pharaoh unless you have found a wife! You have no siblings to keep the line completely pure. You are my only heir, Atem."

Seeing his son's mouth open up, perhaps to muster another protest, the Pharaoh glared at Atem sternly, "I am being beyond fair. There will be many eligible girls; the daughters of the wealthiest Nobles in Egypt and members of my _imakhu_. Do not make this difficult for me, my son."

The boy on the floor remained silent and unmoving, his head bowed once again.

"You may choose your own bride Atem. Just _choose_ is all I ask," the Pharaoh concluded, sighing again, his brow furrowed, "I will see to it that she agrees. I predict many would jump at this chance of monarchy…but it is the first time we have married outside our family."

"Father, can it not wait two more years?" Atem argued, his tone respectful…and persuasive, "Surely you will not die so soon. I have merely completed a tiny fraction of my education. I am not completely ready to get married yet."

The Pharaoh was silent, pondering this suggestion. He looked at his son, kneeling on the floor, his boyish and even scrawny figure still painfully obvious, even under the purple cape that billowed out behind him. As a man who valued education over many things, the Pharaoh himself was more than eager to ensure his son was well educated. Atem was certainly old enough to have a wife but to rule the country? The crease between his brows deepened as the Pharaoh thought things over. The five Priests standing in two lines on either side of the Pharaoh peered down, surveying the Crown Prince as the silence stretched longer.

"Please Father…" Atem begged, cutting the thoughtful silence that had lingered over the hall; even the guards had fallen silent and were listening intently, "A few more years? Just until I have furthered my studies…?"

"Very well Atem," the old Pharaoh consented reluctantly, "I will grant you some more time to improve your education. However, I require you to have carefully considered the prospects during the upcoming festival."

Meanwhile, in the southern end of Egypt…

"I am _not_ going!" The resolute voice rang sharply throughout the white, marbled halls of a large villa near the Nile.

"Amuenet!" Servants winced as an even louder voice followed the first. The voice of the master of the house was impossible _not_ to recognise. "You are going whether you like it or not! That is an order!"

A young servant within the inner rooms of the villa closed his eyes and bowed his head, unwilling to be a witness to the argument brewing before him. The master of the house had been laying in his reclining chair as the maids fanned him on a hot autumn morning but he was sitting upright now, his hands balled into tight fists. The important member of the Pharaoh's _imakhu_, kind at his best but generally presumptuous and vain but, the servant concluded, could really work himself into a temper.

The girl kneeling on the floor was, thankfully, not staring at the servant. Having been on the receiving end of the glare only once before, the servant wasn't willing to recall the experience, but he had to admit there was no denying the familial resemblance in the two people before him. She was dressed in a simple linen tunic with her dark hair loose around her shoulders, a reminder of her young age. The master's long, thick beard was flecked with bits of grey but it still made up a fearsome picture, coupled with the cold fury etched in every line of his rigid face.

-  
It had been that way-ever since her mother had died.

Amuenet pictured her mother's smiling face and warm, brown eyes; the broad, kindly face and delicate neck and collarbone and the long, shining hair that cascaded out in gentle waves. The same thoughts always returned to her head, like a bee to a flower, whenever she thought of her mother – her father. She felt fury opening up wounds and the same screaming litany she longed to put a voice to. _It was Father's fault. It was all Father's fault! It was Father-_

"Amuenet! Are you listening?"

Her father's voice was angry – angrier than usual. Had she been a servant, she would be close to being executed right at this moment. Thankfully, though probably closer to a servant than she would have liked in this household, Amuenet was still the daughter of Noble Hamadi of Lower Egypt. Whether she liked it or not that was.

"You are a member of my family and you _shall_ be going to the Pharaoh's Gathering in Upper Egypt. Do you _hear me_?"

The calculating part of Amuenet's mind, tuned to the various degrees of her father's threatening tone since early childhood, figured her father was very close to calling the guards on her. Her hands, covered by her dress, tightened as she took in his blazing eyes and the rigid line of his mouth.

"_Amuenet_! Do I have an answer?"

Seeing the two guards near her father's side take a few discreet steps forward, Amuenet rose quickly, feeling the hem of her tunic whip at her legs. Every fibre of her body tensed as she saw the movements of the guards at the corners of her eyes.

"I refuse to," Amuenet said coldly, matching her father's blazing eyes with her own dark irises. Noble Hamadi's hands went up in a silent command and the guards lunged forward. One guard lunged for the small girl and she sprang aside, backing swiftly away from him. She sensed a movement behind her and cursed mentally. The other guard, more cunning than his companion, had managed to get behind her and grabbed roughly at her arm.

Amuenet twisted around, scrabbling at the guard's arms with her fingernails, throwing a kick at the first guard who was rushing up toward them. Feeling her foot connect with something soft and a grunt, she drew her hand into a fist and punched at the guard who was holding her with all her strength. The grip on her arm loosened and she wrenched her arm away.

Jumping aside from the two guards, she sprang out the door into the cool evening, hearing the shouts of the guards die away. Wincing, she felt a throbbing bruise start to develop on her arm and a tugging sensation at her knee. Stopping briefly, Amuenet realised she had a few cuts on her legs – probably when she had fallen on the ground.

Biting back the pain, Amuenet ran for it. Dodging some servants and maids, who were staring, wide-eyed, she made her way back to her chamber near the garden of the villa, hoping fervently her father would not send guards over there as well.

0000000

The Noble of Lower Egypt watched his daughter run out the door, anger abruptly giving away to weariness. Sighing, he took a seat, calling the two guards back. For such a skinny girl, she had actually dealt a little pain to both of the burly men. Rubbing his temples, Hamadi reclined back into his chair, calling for some wine. His daughter Amuenet, self-righteous and stubborn, was always running away from discipline. Even her name, spelt differently from the conventional Amunet, both meant and was a mystery in itself.

Amuenet was a strange one, unexplainable. Hamadi could not figure out why she had not enjoyed playing with the little toys her sisters had enjoyed. He could not explain why she had, upon finishing her education, asked to learn combat with her brothers. He had thought she had been placated when he agreed to allow her to observe the guards training and her two brothers when they had lessons; it had certainly kept her quiet for the better part of the last three years.

Amuenet had always had a sharp tongue but even Hamadi could detect the change in her voice now – it was not merely a child's annoyance but contained a cold hint of an adult's words. She hated him.

Noble Hamadi's mind wandered back to his first wife, Akila and to the five years since her last breath. Amuenet had been Akila's only child. Upon Akila's death and, try as he did to comfort her; Amuenet had pulled away from his helping hand. First Amuenet had been miserable and then came the period of silence before the inexplicable bouts of fury and hatred at the slightest things.

Now, Amuenet was fifteen and beyond ready to be married. Hamadi couldn't help comparing her physique to those of his other daughters – she seemed merely a child and in no way ready to bear children. He did not relish the idea of marrying her off ort the difficult task of convincing her. She hated him and whatever he wished for her to do and the hatred at slowly grown and multiplied until it had spread to just about everyone in the family.

She had never been a sweet child like his other children but she had not been this defiant, angry, closed-off young girl who had stood before him.

"Would you like us to follow after her, my lord?" one of Hamadi's guards asked, bowing respectfully. Noticing the faint bruise on the guard's cheek, Noble Hamadi shook his head, pushing the thought of Amuenet back from his mind. He would deal with her later.

0000000

"You are lucky this is not deep Amuenet," a servant girl remarked as she cleansed the scrapes with some water and papyrus reeds. She tucked a strand of brown hair behind her ears and dipped the cloth in water.

Amuenet snorted in disgust, looking away, despite addressing the girl. "It doesn't hurt at all. You don't need to go to all the trouble, Halyma."

Halyma smiled secretly to herself. This was typical of Amuenet, always keeping her pride in check. Seeing her mistress wince, Halyma dabbed the wound gently with some more water. "It is almost done Amuenet. I will just apply-"

"Well, look who has decided to return!" a high, fluttering voice interrupted Halyma's words. Amuenet looked up automatically toward the doorway as Halyma fell silent. Two girls stood at the doorway to the chamber, dressed in colourful silks, jewellery glinting off their arms and ears in the dim candlelight. Amuenet rolled her eyes inwardly as she recognised her two half-sisters, Omorose and Shemei.

"What do you two want?" Amuenet asked, regarding the two sisters warily.

Omorose, the eldest of the three girls, was the one who had spoken and she strutted into the chamber, not missing a chance to give her bright red veil a flick. Omorose's brown eyes were focused coldly at her younger half-sister. Being the eldest, even if it were only three years, Omorose had always considered herself above Amuenet and treated her as such. Amuenet returned the dislike with interest.

"We wanted to see how badly you had been beaten by Father," Shemei piped up from behind Omorose pleasantly. She was wearing a bright blue veil, her ears adorned with heavy golden jewellery and eyes smeared heavily with kohl. Though only a few months older than Amuenet, Shemei always looked older than she was when she put on the expensive jewellery she was given.

"You are in for disappointment," Amuenet replied coldly. She had never been on good terms with her half-sisters – they were vain, bossy and vapid girls. It didn't help that Shemei was considered extremely beautiful in the area and had received proposals from distinguished men in the region. It made the girl egotistical on top of her other bad traits.

"What can be _so_ horrible about the annual gathering in Upper Egypt that you have to complain to _father_ about?" Omorose continued, raising a finely painted eyebrow at Amuenet. "Surely you still know how to _talk_ to people right?"

"No, no, I hear the Prince of Egypt will be attending for the first time," Shemei interrupted, "and that he is of marriageable age now. Perhaps Amuenet is too afraid to meet him in person!"

The two girls collapsed in giggles.

Amuenet rolled her eyes. "You two really think you have a chance with the Prince?" she asked, mirroring their disdainful tones. _Though if the Prince is as vapid as the rumours say, he might end up falling in love with Shemei_, a tiny part of her brain added. She forced back a groan at the prospect.

"A better chance than you have the least," Shemei countered her half-sister, smiling with the self-confidence that came from constant praise. "Perhaps you consider me a rival for the Prince's _affections_?"

The two girls collapsed into more raucous giggles.

Amuenet felt a blaze of indignation. They thought _she_ was interested in the _Prince_? The very _idea_ that she could somehow resemble the two girls giggling before her was offensive. "I will not even entertain the notion I could somehow have something in common with you…you common tavern wrenches," she snarled icily.

The giggles were abruptly cut short. Omorose glared at Amuenet, her laughter vanishing. "Watch your tongue Amuenet. You have no authority to speak to me that way. If you dare to again, I shall tell father."

She signalled for Shemei and the two strode out of Amuenet's chamber haughtily, traces of their perfume lingering in the air. Hearing their dying footsteps, Amuenet gave an audible groaned and sat back down on the bed.

Halyma glanced at her mistress in sympathy. It was true Amuenet was not interested in associating with any other people her age, especially young men but Halyma believed her mistress was just as capable of loving as anyone else.

Upon first glance, Amuenet was as ordinary looking as a commoner, from her tanned skin to the simple white linen tunic she favoured. A closer glance revealed the inbred nobility in Amuenet's language and mannerisms, however much the girl tried to hide it. Having known Amuenet for most of her life, however, Halyma was well aware of Amuenet's unconventional beauty, having inherited her mother's thoughtful, intelligent eyes and thick black hair. It was the closed-off, contemptuous mask and the suspicious edge in her voice that everyone noticed first.

Halyma recalled being brought into Noble Hamadi's family at the age of six, sold by parents who could no longer support her, bound and treated like dirt as all servants were. Amuenet's mother had saved her from a hard beating after she had spilt a bowl of soup over the Noble's sandals. As she prepared her mistress' bed and combed out Amuenet's long hair, Halyma recalled being first introduced to Amuenet, many years ago…

_The older maid took her to the wide door of the playroom. Her heart was pounding and she gripped her rough tunic, biting her lip. Halyma stepped inside, looking at the maid who gave her a nod and left. She was now alone. Taking a look around, Halyma's eyes widened. The room was magnificent – decorated in colourful woven rugs with wooden toys she had never seen scattered on the floor. The woven cot in the corner of the room was the largest one Halyma had ever seen! _

"_Hello," a high, clear child's voice spoke from the cot. Halyma looked toward the cot, meeting the eyes of a small girl sitting on the cot. Immediately, she bowed as a sign of respect. The little girl slipped off the cot and walked toward Halyma. She couldn't help noticing the girl was so much shorter than she was. _

"_Good morning Miss Amuenet," Halyma said, speaking the words she had been taught. "M-My name is Halyma. I'm to be your new servant."_

"_Miss Amuenet?" Amuenet giggled. "That's so funny - no one calls me that. Call me Amuenet okay? How old are you? I've just turned five!" She held up one hand, her tiny fingers outstretched. _

_Halyma felt a small smile creep up on her face. "I am ten summers old."_

Blowing the candle out, Halyma let her eyes adjust to the darkness. She heard the familiar sound of Amuenet's breathing as her mistress drifted off to sleep. Even in sleep, the frown on Amuenet's face was illuminated by the moonlight shining through the small window. Halyma gazed at Amuenet's face sadly, remembering when the expression had first appeared into her mistress' life.

"_Mother!" Halyma grabbed the ten-year-old Amuenet's arms, her own heart heavy with grief. The doors to the Mistress' chambers were closed and it seemed Amuenet's anguished calls were not reaching the people inside…_

_The woman lying on the bed made no sound or movement and neither did the little figure kneeling at her bedside. Halyma approached tentatively, hearing the sobs of the older maids who were standing by the door. As she knelt slowly by Amuenet's side, Halyma took in the face of Noble Hamadi's first wife. _

_Her face still looked kind and peaceful with a small smile still on its features but it bore no resemblance to the youth Halyma had grown to associate with the woman. The skin was ashen and bloodless, making the dark hair pooled around her even darker. The eyelids were closed…closed and would never open anymore._

_Halyma looked away, feeling her own tears prick at her eyes. She put an arm around Amuenet's shoulders, feeling her flinch slightly at the contact. Amuenet looked up, her face streaked with tears, eyes searching Halyma's for some kind of explanation. _

"_Why Halyma?" she asked, voice hoarse and soft. "Why did she have to go?"_

_Halyma shook my head, unsure of what to say. Her own mother had died in childbirth giving birth to her and her cold stepmother had been all she had known. Amuenet's mother had been the only mother she had ever really known. "Would you like some more time alone Amuenet?" Halyma whispered. Amuenet nodded her head weakly. _

_Bowing her head, Halyma backed out of the room; saying a silent prayer for Lady Akila and feeling her own tears run down her face. She thought she heart a small whisper before she shut the door – something that sounded like, "Father…"_

_Amuenet emerged from her mother's room as a different person; a caterpillar spinning its cocoon. Even to Halyma, Amuenet began to change, growing constantly unhappy and locked up. Only Halyma sensed the hate that radiated from Amuenet every time she saw her father, the slowly increasing distrust. It was obvious Amuenet blamed her father for her mother's death. _

_Amuenet was unhappy, as unhappy as a bird locked in a cage. Halyma could see that, but a lowly servant was not expected to help her mistress in personal affairs and Amuenet tried to hide it as best as she could in Halyma's presence. Halyma could only watch sadly for five years as the young, vibrant girl she used to know disappeared into a cold, empty shell._

_One could only hope she turns back…while she still has time…_

Halyma knew her mistress's only desire was freedom. Sadly, freedom to a Noble's daughter was like waiting for rain in the desert. She would never have freedom as the daughter of Noble Hamadi and in the life she was destined for.

Sighing, Halyma lay down in her small cot, looking at the moonlight shining through the window shafts, lost in her own memories…

**_A/N:_** Well, well, well, doesn't this look familiar? Hello everyone, it's been awhile. As you may have noticed, this is Soaring over Nile Version 2! This was _not_ predicted. I started editing Chapter One purely as a reflection exercise - to see how much I could improve the story and it got quite out of hand. I'll have to be honest with you - I was not thirteen as I said when I started writing SoN - I was twelve and in Year Six (Sixth Grade) when I started.

I'm actually fifteen now and, for the fun of it (and for my conscience at seeing such vague/crappy writing), I'm attempting to re-edit and rewrite Soaring over Nile! As you may have noticed, this version is longer. I wrote SoN as a "movie" so I was very _very_ vague about certain details because they made sense in my head! No details are necessary! I'm changing bits to make them less cliche/depressing/Mary-Sue/OOC as **Fluffy'sMate17** and other reviewers suggested.

I have to warn you - this revamped version will take a _long_ time to complete - I'm terribly erratic with my writing so I will have bursts of inspiration and then months of hiatus. Sorry in advance. No guarantees I can finish this at all or even if it'll be very good (YuGiOh itself kind of ignored Ancient Egypt "canon" so it's hard to write). I'm sorry if this seems excessive, especially since I've not finished any of my other chapter fanfics, but I was honestly not expecting to return to this account so this is kind of kicking a dead horse. Sorry again. Like I said - a writing exercise!

I would just like to thank the anonymous reviewer **Queen Lyria** for her two _amazing_ reviews - I'm sorry I can't reply to them because I could ramble for _ages_ about them. I do wish you could review _Luck_ for me because it is closer to my current style but your reviews were really wonderful. I'm really flattered you think so highly of my writing (_I_ certainly don't right now!). About your suggestions to turn it into a novel - my obsessive phase with Ancient Egypt has passed now but I _am_ writing original fiction now that may see the light of day sometime.

Eh. This has been as long as the chapter itself. Thank you for reading if you did!


	2. I want to soar

**Soaring over Nile**

_Disclaimer: I don't own Yugioh_

**Chapter Two-** **I want to Soar!**

Dinner that night was a silent affair. Though the family dined together as a whole, Noble Hamadi refused to speak for the most part, plunging the whole hall into gloomy silence. He had also not called for the usual musicians who played as the family ate; Amuenet had not realised the importance of the lute and harps in keeping conversation going until they were gone. It was slightly unsettling to be sitting in such stifling tension. Taking a sip from her cup, Amuenet stole a discreet look at her father as she drank.

Surprisingly, her father did not look as furious as she had expected. He was absentmindedly picking grapes off his plate, seemingly lost in thought. Abruptly, Amuenet's eyes slid over and met the sharp gaze of Neema, her father's second wife. Quickly putting her cup down and returning her gaze to her plate, Amuenet's hands tightened on her linen tunic. _Obviously_ Neema would be blaming her for her father's lack of response, particularly as Neema was the one sitting to his right today, instead of his other wife.

Grimacing at her step-mother's expression, Amuenet glanced to her father's left, where a slim girl with long plaited hair sat demurely, her head down and hands in her lap. Shy and reserved, nine-year-old Aziza was the youngest child in the family and the daughter of her father's third wife, Eshe. Amuenet rarely saw Aziza during the day – Eshe was a very stern and proper woman who had insisted that Aziza begin her education as soon as possible. Eshe herself was seated next to Aziza, her thin face a little stern but placid nonetheless.

Aziza's shy quiet nature was, unfortunately, balanced by Omorose and Shemei's obnoxious personalities. Amuenet gave the two her best glare from across the table. It was impossible _not_ to associate Omorose and Shemei's hideous personalities with that of their mother, Neema, her father's second wife. Neema was born of a high class family, and she treated Amuenet with utter contempt. There was always something sneaky and sly about the glint in Neema's eyes that stirred suspicion and distrust in Amuenet.

"What did you do to Father this time?" someone muttered from Amuenet's left.

Ngozi, Eshe's eldest son, raised his eyebrows at his younger half-sister from beside his mother but his younger brother by a year, Oba, was the one who had spoken to Amuenet. Amuenet shot a glare at Oba, who gave Amuenet a bemused grin and looked away.

"Father, I have heard from one of my schoolmates that the Pharaoh's Gathering in Upper Egypt will be taking place in the coming weeks," Ngozi spoke up, breaking the hostile silence that lingered in the air.

Amuenet groaned silently as her father looked up, eyes a little distant, as if waking from a daydream. There was a brief silence and Noble Hamadi seemed to snap out of his contemplation. "Oh…yes, Ngozi, you are correct."

"_Well_?" Shemei demanded, in a belligerent tone she rarely used with anyone except Amuenet. Noble Hamadi's brows rose and Shemei smoothly corrected herself. "What of it Father? Will we be able to go?"

"Please Father? Please may we go?" Omorose chimed in, her eyes wide and pleading.

"I do hear, husband, you have recently purchased several new barges. _And_ we must simply try a long-distance journey on the ferry we bought a summer ago, should we not?" Neema spoke up in her sugary voice.

Amuenet glared at her plate, imagining it was the three women's faces.

Noble Hamadi looked slightly indignant. "I _am_ one of the Pharaoh's _imakhu_ and it is preferable we should go and introduce our family to the Pharaoh! It _has_ been several years since we have last journeyed to Upper Egypt."

"I am not going," Amuenet spoke bluntly.

There was a silence again and Noble Hamadi's gaze turned frosty and he looked at his daughter. "Do not make me repeat what happened this afternoon Amuenet."

Turning back to Shemei and Omorose's excited faces, Noble Hamadi beckoned for his scribe and accountant. Once the men were there, Hamadi sat back down on his chair and started conversing with them. The atmosphere around the dining room lightened considerably as Omorose and Shemei's chatter filled the air.

"What do you have against Upper Egypt anyway?" Oba turned to ask Amuenet.

"It's…annoying," Amuenet mumbled. Truthfully, except for the problem of _suitors_, there wasn't a lot wrong with Upper Egypt. There were definitely new foods to try and, though she would never admit it, Amuenet was still a little interested in the Royal Palace.

"I know what you might find interesting," Oba said quietly, leaning over to Amuenet. "The Royal Guards in the Palace _are_ the best fighters in Egypt. There is also a rumour that a special type of dagger is available in the marketplace in Upper Egypt that will _never_ tarnish."

Amuenet's eyes widened at the prospect. She was just about to ask more when Oba snickered and punched her playfully on the shoulder. "Look at you; who are you trying to fool? Father would never let you own a _dagger_ little sister." He received another glare from Amuenet for that, but the latter sighed and consented to the fact.

"It is decided," Noble Hamadi said loudly and all members of the family turned to look at him. "We shall depart in three days time. I will send an envoy of five men ahead to announce our arrival. As Neema has suggested, the family shall take the ferry and four barges containing possessions and gifts for the Pharaoh. As Ngozi is already engaged to Noble Kemsa's daughter and is close to finishing his sword training, he will remain in the Villa."

Amuenet sighed and looked up at her eldest brother, who looked reluctant. Noble Hamadi looked pointedly at Amuenet when he continued. "I will take this time to remind all of my children that this visit will also be a time to seek out potential suitors."

At this, Shemei smiled smugly and Omorose's whispers of excitement could be heard from across the table. Neema, sitting on her husband's right, frowned at her two daughters. Amuenet closed her eyes and bit back her groan.

"Oba, Omorose, Shemei and Amuenet, you children are all of marriageable age and you will display exemplary behaviour at _all_ times. I will not have the family name tarnished by _any_ of you."

"And _one_ of the girls may even interest the Prince of Egypt, will you not agree my dear?" Neema smiled, nodding in Shemei's direction.

Amuenet resisted the urge to roll her eyes but, looking at her father's face, knew she had lost this battle. As the family rose to retire for the evening and servants hurried to collect the plates, Amuenet tried to imagine becoming a bride. All she could see standing next to her was someone like her father, presumptuous and controlling, and she shuddered at the thought. _Oh well,_ she thought, with a small breath of relief, _it's not like anyone will propose to me anyway_.

0000000

The sky was dark outside as Atem stared out the window. He couldn't even _picture_ himself getting married, let alone having to choose someone to be standing next to him. It seemed illogical, to have a child to be _his_ heir when he, Atem, was an heir himself. He remembered Nebi, the son of one of his Father's nobles, who was two years older than him, already the father of two children. Nebi's wife was only thirteen when she bore the first child.

"My _Prince_."

Atem looked down at the slab of _ostraca _he was supposed to be writing on with a start. Mentally cursing himself for daydreaming again, he looked back up at his teacher, who was glaring quite vindictively at him. Grinning a little sheepishly, he lowered his head and began writing again.

Being the Prince, he had to be educated in the same way as scribes were. He had lessons of astronomy, astrology, mathematics, practical arts and sports as well as reading and writing hieratic and hieroglyphs. It wasn't as though the lessons weren't interesting; the idea of running around and playing with other children was a much more riveting thought.

_But the girls are even more fortunate, _he thought rather enviously, _They do not need to be able to read at all! All they need to know is how to weave and farm and throw parties. _

When the lesson finally drew to a close, Atem bade a quick farewell to his tutor and strode outside. Hearing the distant voices of soldiers outside, up at the night sky, strewn with bright stars. _One day…I'll be free_.

0000000

"What did the Master say at dinner?" Halyma asked quietly, running a comb through Amuenet's hair as the latter sat on her bed of woven reeds and wood.

"It looks like I'm being forced to go to Upper Egypt," Amuenet said, a hint of steel in her voice. "And Father is adamant that I am to be wed before my fifteenth birthday. Where is the reason in that?"

"You would be past the expected marriageable age at fifteen," Halyma murmured, putting down the comb and getting Amuenet's nightgown out for her.

"I just…don't want to marry someone like Father," Amuenet said, glaring at the floor. "And I hate that Father believes we _have_ to go to Upper Egypt to find a husband. I don't want to move there when I am married."

Amuenet suddenly let out a sharp laugh, remembering Neema's sugary smile. "Marry the _Prince_? Oh, if Shemei ends up being the Prince's wife, she will be utterly _impossible_ to deal with. Maybe it will be a good thing if Shemei ends up moving into the Grand Palace."

"My lady?"

"I'm just thinking if the Prince ends up marrying Shemei, he really will be the spoilt Palace brat I'm envisioning in my head right now," Amuenet explained, watching Halyma's face pale a little.

"My lady, you mustn't say such blasphemous things!"

Amuenet smiled at Halyma's anxious face, some of the anger leaving her eyes. "I'm going out to the courtyard."

Walking out into the cool evening, Amuenet let the slight breeze caress her bare arms. As she walked, she contemplated her daily lessons – weaving and dressing up and throwing parties. Omorose and Shemei excelled in those lessons but that was all that they excelled at. To Amuenet, those lessons breezed through her mind, containing little substance. She wanted to read and write like her brothers, to string an arrow and cross swords with people, to defend herself and to be a part of the dancing skill that was fighting.

It was still too strange, too _unnatural_ for an Egyptian girl. Closing her eyes, Amuenet imagined a dance of flashing swords, making sense of the characters on the papyrus scrolls her father read; she imagined being free of all restrictions and rules and soaring in the clouds.

Her hands were now feathers and her whole body was light and streamlined. She was a swift, golden bird, darting through the air, riding on the wind. In the dark evening, Amuenet smiled to herself. One day, she would soar…she would soar over the Nile.

**A/N:** This chapter is significantly shorter than the last so I apologise. I have summer holidays now so maybe there will be faster updates. I've condensed a lot of scenes I felt were unecessary in the flow of the story so that might explain the length. I'm no expert in Ancient Egyptian history and was obviously not when I first wrote Soaring over Nile so I've been researching a little more and changed a few false things. I'm also trying to target character development and make all the characters more three-dimensional. Thank you **Queen Lyria** for all those reviews! It's obvious you've put a lot of thought into the story and I will gladly take your suggestions into consideration; I will definitely try and expand more of Atem and Amuenet's relationship. Thank you for pointing out some of the specifics about Ancient Egypt (currency etc.) and I'll be sure to change those when I get to the chapter.

Until next time  
--elaeye


	3. Visions

**Soaring over Nile**_Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh_

**Chapter Three- Visions**

The journey up river was slow. Noble Hamadi had hired musicians, singers and dancers of elaborate proportions to entertain the family during the journey. It seemed most of Amuenet's family, particularly her father and her stepsisters, were content to waste the days away bathing in the sunshine, eating and drinking. Shemei and Omorose, naturally, had brought most of their closet with them and spent most of the day dressing themselves up and observing their reflections in the river. So often they reapplied their makeup that Oba had commented they were going to run out of kohl before they even reached Upper Egypt.

For Amuenet, the slow-moving boats were torture. Used to being quick on her feet, the crawling pace of the boats was agonizing. She longed to jump into the river and get away from the stuffy heat of the cabins but the threat of crocodiles meant no one was allowed to go swimming. Halyma tried to keep Amuenet entertained with board games like _senet_ but the novelty wore thin when the journey passed the first week. Oba had brought along his pet dog Kalil and, when he was not playing with his pet, was busy with lessons. Having no pets of her own, Amuenet was then left to sit in silence in her cabin, closing her eyes and trying not to groan as the barges moved up the Nile.

It was no surprise, then, that Amuenet was in a foul mood by the time they approached the harbours of Upper Egypt. Apparently determined to make her as presentable as the rest of the family, Neema barged into Amuenet's cabin with an armful of Shemei's beaded dresses, ordering Amuenet to put one of them on before they reached the port the following day. Amuenet determinedly refused to wear any of Shemei's belongings.

Eshe had more success, giving Amuenet a plainer embroidered white dress and a silk shawl. Amuenet reluctantly accepted the ivory bracelets and earrings but drew the line at makeup. Finally, after much persuasion, she allowed Halyma to line her eyes with kohl and braid her hair.

As the boats pulled up at the harbour, Noble Hamadi called for his family to be ready to be transported by several chariots to the Pharaoh's palace. Eshe and Neema both wore wigs and heavy makeup and were in clothes befitting of a Noble's wives. Shemei stepped out in a wave of colourful silk and perfume with Omorose behind her. Noble Hamadi smiled approvingly at his elder daughters. Amuenet sighed, knowing Shemei was well aware of the other Noble families arriving at the harbour.

Oba and Amuenet exchanged a knowing look as Shemei flicked her hair and engaged Omorose in a pretentious laughing conversation in front of the other Noble families. Little Aziza clung to her mother's skirts and didn't say a word as the family made their way up to the Pharaoh's palace.

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There was chaos, in the most orderly way, in the Pharaoh's palace in Upper Egypt.

Atem had been called to organize the Pharaoh's gathering with his father, as part of his learning. He was well aware of the extravagant dishes being prepared by the cooks, the masses of musicians, dancers, acrobats and storytellers and the importance of the guests who would be staying for a week. He knew he had to entertain the women and children while his father organized stately affairs with the Nobles.

It was a tiring business and Atem had been up since the early hours of the morning. Of course, he had the help of the High Priests – particularly Mahaado and Shaada, but it was exhaustive just the same. The first guests would start arriving toward the afternoon and it was already midday.

"My Prince, it is time to get dressed," a maid said, bowing respectfully, and gestured toward Atem's chambers.

Atem knew he was going to be dressed in a cream, gold embroidered tunic and a heavy royal purple cloak but that didn't make the prospect any more comfortable. His golden bangs were beginning to stick to his face in the heat and the golden jewellery covering his arms were feeling heavier as the heat settled in and now he'd have to add earrings, even more bracelets, rings and his headdress. He sighed and followed the maid into his room.

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Most of the family kept their faces hidden as the chariot trundled through the city and toward the Pharaoh's palace. The sun was lower in the sky but the sand kicked up by the horse hooves was still blinding and dense. Amuenet looked out of the chariot, squinting at the mud houses of the village and appreciating the simple houses that sat neatly next to each other on the street.

The horses slowed as they approached the enormous gates that barred the Royal Palace from the outside. Noble Hamadi commented on the impressive size of the gates but it was only after they had been let inside that Omorose and Shemei began to fawn over the luxurious marbled pillars of the inside.

A manservant greeted the family and showed them to their quarters; Noble Hamadi and his two wives would have a room, Oba would be staying in a small private room, Shemei and Omorose were sharing a room, to Amuenet's relief, and Amuenet was sharing a room with Aziza. Sharing a room with Aziza basically meant having a room to herself; Amuenet's half-sister spent nearly all her waking hours with her mother. Though she was secretly relieved at this arrangement, Amuenet didn't take let her face betray any emotion as the servants started to unload their belongings.

Other Noble families were arriving and settling into adjourning suites. There were so _many_ guests and of all ages; from little children younger than Aziza to elderly men. Amuenet couldn't resist looking curiously at the tall dark-skinned Ethiopians or the guests with light brown hair who looked to have Macedonian heritages. Omorose and Shemei barged into their suites and immediately ordered the maids to reapply their makeup and dress them in their party dresses. Watching them giggle and gossip about the other 'less beautiful' girls and about the Prince of Egypt was making Amuenet sick.

The first night of the Gathering would begin at dusk, but all Nobles were required to present their families to the Pharaoh before the Gathering began. Since her father had arranged to be one of the last to present his family, Amuenet had to wait until sunset and was not permitted to leave her chambers. It seemed Neema would use all means to ensure Amuenet looked presentable.

"I cannot believe this!" Amuenet cried, pacing in her chamber. The unfamiliar smell and layout of the room was infuriating. Oba had been allowed to explore the Palace and she had no doubt Omorose and Shemei had been permitted to wander around. She longed for open space. Halyma, busy folding linen sheets, did not reply.

0000000

The scorching sun slid down the horizon, basking the land of Upper Egypt in its golden glow. Amuenet grimaced, but allowed Halyma to lead her to her father's chambers.

"We shall go to present ourselves to the Pharaoh now," Noble Hamadi commanded, looking at his family gathered before him. They wordlessly made their way to the Throne Room. Once outside, Hamadi beckoned for the servants to come forward, carrying the various gifts they had prepared for the Pharaoh.

The wide stone doors swung open slowly. Amuenet barely had a chance to catch sight of a figure sitting on the gold throne in the center of the Hall, flanked by dozens of servants, before Omorose pinched her on the arm sharply. "Bow your head!" her elder half-sister hissed.

Her eyes watering from the force of Omorose's pinch, Amuenet forced herself to look down at the ground as her father led the procession toward the Pharaoh. With a slight creaking of old joints, Noble Hamadi sank into a graceful bow, falling on one knee. The rest of his family bowed also.

"O Pharaoh of Upper and Lower Egypt, I am honoured to be in your presence and thank you for your generosity. I pray for your good health and long rule."

"Noble Hamadi, please rise," the Pharaoh replied in a soft, deep voice. Noble Hamadi stood, as did the rest of his family. Amuenet was now able to see the Pharaoh's throne in clear detail. The Pharaoh sat in his golden throne, his crook and flail in his hands and a curious golden pyramid hung around his neck. Seven people and a handful of soldiers further were standing at varying distances from his throne. Amuenet was shocked to see that one of the people was a woman. She had to be the High Priestess as the rumours suggested. Come to think of it, all the people standing by the Pharaoh's throne looked quite peculiar.

All the people wore cream robes. To the Pharaoh's immediate left stood a tall, thin man, looking as old as the Pharaoh was. His dark grey hair shadowed part of his face and, despite his long moustache, Amuenet could see that he was wearing a frown. He was holding a golden rod. A small man with curious spiky grey hair stood next to the tall thin man. He was wearing a dark blue cloak over his cream robes. A bald man with curious black tattoos on his head stood next to the small man. He had a golden ankh dangling from his neck. A burly looking man with a black wig stood next to the bald man. He carried a set of scales in his hands, which Amuenet found peculiar.

Amuenet looked to the Pharaoh's right, where the High Priestess stood. She was certainly beautiful, with calm azure eyes. Another man stood next to the High Priestess – he was wearing a hood so Amuenet could only see a curious golden ring hanging around his neck.

"May I present my wives, Neema and Eshe," Noble Hamadi indicated his wives and they curtseyed respectively. The Pharaoh nodded in acknowledgement.

"And my children – my second son Oba and my daughters Omorose, Shemei, Amuenet and Aziza."

Amuenet knew to walk forward and bow in front of the Pharaoh, even _without_ Shemei's sharp jab at the side. She walked in front of her father and stood with her siblings in a line. She saw Oba sink to his knees first and her sisters followed so she mirrored their moves.

"Lovely! Lovely!" the Pharaoh boomed in a jovial tone. "But pray, where is your eldest son?"

"Ngozi is currently continuing his studies back in Lower Egypt. He is due to be wed to Noble Kemsa's second daughter in the coming months…"

"Ah, education and marriage, a wonderful combination," the Pharaoh turned his attention to the girls. "How many summers is your eldest Hamadi?"

"Omorose is sixteen summers Pharaoh," Hamadi replied, evidently delighted the Pharaoh was deigning to inquire after his daughters. Amuenet rolled her eyes privately. Omorose would be seventeen summers in a few days.

"Ah, quite a mature woman and yet not married?" the Pharaoh asked. His tone did not sound accusing but Omorose's shoulders stiffened all the same. Noble Hamadi mumbled something about wanting to further train Omorose's skills before hurriedly moving on.

"May I present my second daughter Shemei," he said, the pride in his voice unmistakable. Shemei looked up, an alluring smile on her face. "Shemei has just turned fifteen summers."

"Ah, a pretty girl she is Hamadi," the Pharaoh said, smiling kindly at Shemei. Amuenet smiled to herself; the Pharaoh did not sound nearly as impressed as Shemei or her father had hoped. "Has she gotten many marriage proposals?"

"Many my Pharaoh," Hamadi continued eagerly. "Noble Yassam's eldest son has offered just last week and there have been-"

"Very good then," the Pharaoh cut across. "And this is…?"

Amuenet lifted her head, quite forgetting she was not supposed to look at royalty in the face. She saw the Pharaoh's eyes widen slightly as she stared boldly at him and his High Priests. Realising her error, Amuenet hastily averted her gaze.

"This is my third daughter Amuenet," Noble Hamadi said. Judging by his tone of voice, he hadn't seen Amuenet's latest blunder. "She is also fifteen summers-"

He stopped abruptly as the High Priestess let out a small gasp. The room had been deathly silent, save for Hamadi's speaking, so the small interruption was magnified in volume. Amuenet looked at the Priestess curiously, forgetting she was supposed to be bowed down in respect. She only then noticed the golden necklace around the High Priestess' neck, in a curious shape of an eye. The necklace seemed to be glowing with golden light. Strangely enough, though her siblings had also looked up, they were staring at the Pharaoh, and not at the High Priestess, in evident confusion. Amuenet would have thought the brightly glowing necklace would have attracted their attention immediately.

"I'm sorry My Pharaoh," the High Priestess murmured.

"It's quite alright Isis," the Pharaoh covered smoothly. Amuenet noticed the golden light was still shining. "Ah, Amuenet is it?"

Amuenet forced herself to be polite. "It is a pleasure to meet you my Pharaoh," she said lightly, looking up briefly before returning her gaze to the floor. Her mind, however, was elsewhere.

"She will grow up to be quite an interesting girl, I am sure," the Pharaoh said, smiling slightly. "And this little one…?"

Noble Hamadi introduced Aziza and then commanded his servants to present the Pharaoh with their gifts. Once the Pharaoh had dismissed them, the family filed out. Amuenet was so absorbed in her thoughts about the strange golden necklace that she completely missed the glares sent her way from Omorose and Shemei, the surprised glances from her stepmothers and her father's speculative gaze.

0000

High Priestess Isis closed her eyes and backed into the shadows of the Pharaoh's throne. Her head was throbbing and she felt a clear, sharp tug from her Millennium Necklace. A vague ghostly image seemed to pick itself up from inside her head and rise up in her mind.

A faint imagine…a great bird! A _Benu_? No, it had the _Benu_'s long, graceful neck but a plume like a peacock…a sudden burst of colour! Gold! The bird was golden!

The Millennium Necklace warmed around her neck and Isis felt a strong pulse…then the feeling of being carried into her vision; weightlessness entered her body and she opened her eyes slowly.

_She was in the throne room – the High Priests were there…yet there was something different. Where was Akunadin? Ah, there was Akunadin, looking more gaunt than before and with a grim expression on his face. Not wanting to be too conspicuous, Isis edged herself away from the throne a little and gasped upon seeing the person upon the throne. _

_There was no mistaking the spiky multicoloured hair. Prince Atem! Yet…his limbs were longer, his shoulders broader…the young boy had aged. He had his face buried in his hands in a decidedly un-royal-like manner and he did not speak._

_A sudden blurriness…and then she saw a young man with brown hair in blue High Priest attire speaking from next to the Pharaoh. He was holding the Millennium Rod. His voice didn't come from his mouth; it felt like a loud echo through where Isis was standing._

"_She's gone," he said, voice older and deeper, "She left before dawn."_

_Isis stumbled, feeling a wave of nausea. Then she was gazing at Prince Atem on the throne again._

_The Prince's hoarse whisper echoed loudly throughout Isis' mind. "What have I done?"_

The vision was gone as sharply as it had come. Isis blinked, thoroughly disoriented.

"Isis? Are you alright?" High Priest Mahaado spoke from beside her, his hand placed gently on her arm. Isis blinked and gave him a small smile as she nodded.

"Isis?" The Pharaoh's voice made her start. She looked at the throne; the old Pharaoh was so firm, so solid and _there_. How long was it until the future she saw…? She closed her eyes and tried to gather her wits. "Isis? What did you see?"

"I saw a great…golden bird," she replied truthfully, once her voice was steady. "And…I saw the Prince. He appears to have aged…perhaps eighteen summers in total."

"Did you see any wives?" the Pharaoh asked hopefully. The High Priests looked at her intently. Isis swallowed and shook her head. "Though we cannot rule out the idea they may not have been…present at that particular moment. I…also saw another High Priest with the Millennium Rod…"

"Anything else?" the Pharaoh asked gently.

Isis shook her head slowly. "That was all, my Pharaoh," she said, trying to sound calm and assuring. It would not do to tell the Pharaoh…not now anyway.

**A/N**: Lack of updating for awhile now, my apologies, but the next chapter is pretty much done. I wanted to stick with the original layout of the story as much as possible but the whole chapter was 10 pages and a lot to swallow at one time so I hope it will be easier splitting it into two chapters. Anyway, I tweaked the layout of the Palace a little bit. Sorry to anyone who has Harry Potter flashbacks when I say 'Great Hall' but there isn't much else to call it. Hehe.

Until next time  
---elaeye


	4. Slipping Away

**Soaring over Nile**

_Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh_

**Chapter Four: Slipping Away**

"Why must I be dressed up again?" Amuenet demanded, glaring at Neema. The woman glared right back at her. "_Because_, your father believes the Pharaoh took an…interest. In _you_," she replied curtly, barely concealing the venomous snarl. "Believe me, I will not have done this by choice. Now put this on and cease your complaints!"

Amuenet felt the silky material of the cream-coloured dress as it fell over her and tried to tell herself it was better than the colourful atrocities Omorose and Shemei were wearing. She had also been forced to put on azure eyeshadow and her cheeks were now brushed with ochre. Halyma followed her perpetually with a comb, ready to brush out tangles in her long black hair, which was loose. Amuenet didn't understand how a mere few minutes with the Pharaoh's presence could have resulted in an hour of dressing up.

Neema threw her a final, contemptuous glance before beckoning for her to come. Dusk had fallen and the sounds of voices and music from the Great Hall became louder as they neared the entrance. Noble Hamadi led the family with Omorose and Shemei chattering to each other and Eshe walked with her two children. Amuenet and Neema brought up the rear.

The wives were given perfumed cones to put on their wigs as they entered the hall. The air was thick with the smells of foods and perfumes. Loud conversation, music and dancers added to the general upbeat din of the Hall. Despite all that, the Great Hall remained relatively comfortable in terms of spaces. Amuenet had to give grudging credit for the sheer magnitude of the hall.

Watching her father and Oba make their way to the men's table, Amuenet followed the women reluctantly to the smaller tables, laden with fruits and exotic dishes of all kinds. Acrobats and dancers wove in and out and the servants were constantly there to fill her plate and glass.

Amuenet took a seat on the cushions, bothered by the noise. The male and female tables were separated by the vast expanse of the hall, but that did not prevent the sons of nobles from wandering around, eyeing girls with interest and striking conversation at proximities hardly deemed to be appropriate. Shemei had generated the attention of five or six boys already. Omorose was sitting next to her sister, basking in Shemei's popularity, though Amuenet noticed hardly any were paying attention to her conversation. Neema had effortlessly started a loud conversation with other wives and Eshe was sitting with Aziza and talking to other women.

Feeling out of place and dizzy from the smells and music, Amuenet looked around desperately for some kind of exit. She spotted a smaller door on the other side of the room. After checking to make sure no one was looking in her directly, Amuenet stood up and quietly edged toward the exit.

"Hello _my lady_," a burly-looking boy about seventeen summers blocked her way. He had a slightly leering quality to his smile and his eyes raked up and down her figure. Amuenet mumbled a response, disguising her disgust, and slipped through the crowd of dancers until she was at the door.

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Atem sighed quietly as he sat amongst a bunch of older men. His father had insisted he sit in and listen to the Nobles discussing various state affairs. The conversation was going in one ear and out of the next. He looked longingly over at the boys his age – but noticed they were following the older ones toward the women's side of the room. He grimaced. It wasn't as though they'd accept him anyway, even _if_ he had taken off his royal purple clock. The multicoloured hair was a bit of a giveaway to his identity and everyone deferred to the Prince.

It wasn't as though any of the Nobles were making much of an attempt to include him in the conversation. He thanked the Gods the talk of marriage had not sprung up. Worse, the High Priests dined at another table, which put an end to any thoughts about finding Mahaado or Mana to talk to. Well, he was _not_ going to sit here for the whole evening. Atem stood up and indicated for the Nobles to continue talking. His father, occupied with conversation, didn't notice.

Atem was about to creep out the exit on the opposite side of the room when a guard blocked his path with his spear. Atem started and, recognizing the guard, groaned. "Jarha, _please_!"

"I'm sorry Prince," Jarha replied, his face solemn. "The Pharaoh has requested you _remain_ in the Hall." He was a tall boy who was four years Atem's senior and, when he wasn't being the Authorative Guard Of Atem's Life, was actually one of Atem's closest friends. Or so Atem had _thought_.

"_Once_ Jarha, I won't go far!" Atem urged. "I'll be back before you know it; I just need some fresh air!"

Jarha frowned. "No. No. You said that _last_ time."

Atem sighed, mind working fast, and then allowed a look of horror to dawn on his face. "Jarha! Behind you! Beware!"

Jarha whirled around in alarm, sword already at the ready. When he looked back a split second later, the Prince had vanished. Mentally giving himself a slap, Jarha ran out into the exit. "Prince Atem! Come back!"

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Amuenet sighed in relief, breathing in the cool air of the evening. The courtyard was long and rectangular, two enormous statues on either side of the exit. Amuenet could still hear the music echoing from inside and the chatter of conversation. She moved away from the light cast from inside, running a hand along the cool stone walls of the Hall. It was lucky she did. The sound of footsteps seemed to come out of nowhere and she saw a growing shadow approaching the exit of the Hall.

Quickly, Amuenet retreated further along the side of the walls and behind one of the giant statues. There were male voices and then a jeering call. "_My lady_? Are you there? Why don't you come say hello?" Other voices joined his call.

Amuenet stepped slowly backwards, feeling disgusted. She silently made her way to the edge of the Hall, watching the dark shadows of the older boys wander a little and then return into the Hall. Her desire to return to the dizzying light and music was shrinking by the second. She glanced at the building a little way off in the distance. The sheer size of the Pharaoh's Palace was amazing. Just the Great Hall itself was almost as big as her father's entire Villa. She was sure there were other smaller halls and, considering the Palace could house all the guests in the Great Hall, there were bound to be hundreds of apartments as well.

The moonlight lit up a white building in the distance and Amuenet found herself wondering what the place was for; it was practically glowing under the silvery light of the moon. Looking back at the Hall and thinking of those horrible boys, Amuenet made up her mind and made her way toward the white building.

As she approached, Amuenet realized the white building was, in fact, a low wall, lined with tall trees. Amuenet recognized a date tree, which they had in their own garden, but there were exotic-looking trees she'd never seen before. There was a door with patterned pillars on either side. Amuenet pushed on the door and realized it was unlocked. Smiling at her good luck, she pushed the door open a little wider, making sure there was enough of a gap so that a passing wind would not blow it shut, and slipped in. The garden was enormous. At the centre of the well-maintained paths was a white pavilion with enormous white marble pillars. Greenery like none she'd ever seen covered the pillars and a large swimming pool was in front of the pavilion, still in the night. If she squinted hard enough in the moonlight, Amuenet could make out shapes of exotic birds near the plants.

To the pavillion's right, she could see more of the royal apartments. She closed her eyes, trying to envision the path she needed to get back. A rough, sketchy outline swam before her eyes – she had a general idea, but she hoped dearly that the party would not be finishing soon, because it would take awhile to walk back.

This place was too tempting, in its calmness and silence. The swimming pool water looked almost silvery in the moonlight. Amuenet sat down on the raised marble platform and gazed into the water, glad for a moment's peace.

0000000

The one frustrating thing about the Palace was that one often got lost in it, despite having lived there one's entire life. Atem knew he should have turned into his private chambers but Jarha and a few other guards were right behind him. He didn't think he could have pushed open the door to his room quickly enough so Atem kept running. It was dark and the mental maps of the winding hallways in the Royal Apartments were blending into one blurry mess as he ran. His purple cloak was in his arms; it was heavy but it was better than running with it _on_.

"Prince!" Atem was relieved to hear Jarha's voice came from further away than he had expected. "Prince! Stop!"

Atem turned sharply to his left and felt a burst of triumph. His father's personal garden was just ahead. The guards were not allowed to set foot inside the garden and to get permission, they had to go to his father themselves. Atem knew they'd choose camping outside the garden to facing the intimidating Pharaoh himself. Grinning at that thought, Atem ran faster toward the white walls, not even noticing the door was slightly ajar before he opened and closed the door quietly behind him.

Breathing hard from the exertion of his escape, Atem put his purple cloak down near the door's entrance and strode briskly towards the white pavilion, still reveling in his victory.

0000000

Amuenet only looked up from the water when she heard the footsteps close – _too_ close – behind her. If she hadn't been taken by surprise, she'd have moved quietly until she was hiding behind the pillar. As it was, she stood up and turned sharply. There was no time to hide - she readied herself for a fight.

"Who's there?" two voices echoed together in the night.

**A/N:** YES I'm terrible for ending this on a cliffhanger. For Spirit Seer, who wanted to read it even though it's unfinished, and all the readers who have stuck with SoN throughout thick and thin. This was an old chapter (part of it...) I had written about three years ago when the desire to rewrite SoN was still burning, so please forgive the regressive writing style. This is the last you will be reading of this version of the fic or any writing on this account. I'm so sorry for ending so many fics on cliffhangers ):

I'm still writing but I'm not writing for these fandoms or at anymore. I will, however, be updating my favourites list if I find good fic (: taught me hard but invaluable lessons about writing and I'm grateful to every reviewer, critic and even flamer who has commented. You've all helped me improve (I wish this chapter showed my improvements, but it's an old piece of writing...sigh. Sorry about that)


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